


Paper Route

by Editor7



Category: The Beatles
Genre: 1950s, Liverpool, M/M, Pre-Beatles, Smoking, late night conversation, newspaper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 21:42:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10885488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Editor7/pseuds/Editor7
Summary: After Paul runs an embarrassingly late newspaper delivery, he encounters an odd young man.





	Paper Route

**Author's Note:**

> Nervous, as usual, about posting this...  
> I just noticed it had been a while since I posted, so even though this isn't the story I planned on posting first, it was the one I had finished, so here we are. Finals, man
> 
> BACKGROUND INFO TIME! Paul has actually said that this is how he met John before he "officially" met him at the Woolton Fete. Yet John never brought it up himself, I don't think...anywho! Of course I had to write a lame little story based on it! That's my specialty  
> I hope you enjoy!

"Oh, man, oh, man..." Paul cursed under his breath.

He pedaled as hard as he could. He'd run hopelessly late on his paper route, and he knew his boss was going to give him hell for it.

As he approached the newspaper store, he didn't see anybody standing outside. He hopped off of his bike and desperately knocked on the door.

"Hello? Hello?" He checked to see if there was any money for him under the mat. There wasn't. "Aw...man."

"Wow, you're really late."

"AH!" squeaked Paul.

He turned and saw somebody seated on a bench, holding a cigarette. It was too dark out for Paul to have noticed him before. And though the boy wasn't sitting too far away, Paul still couldn't see him clearly in the dark. All he could tell was that he was wearing glasses and had a somewhat curly tuft of hair in the front.

"Uh...hi, there, sir," Paul greeted, still out of breath. "What're you up to?"

The boy chuckled. "'Sir'. That's a new one."

"...sorry?" 

"Ain't up to nothing. So, what took you so long? This place closed a WHILE ago."

"I got...hung up."

"Hung up with what?"

"Sorry, but why do you want to know?"

"It's been a rather boring day. I'd like to hear something interesting, if you don't mind."

Paul let out a huff. "It's nothing interesting. And my sincerest apologies, but I do mind."

"You sure do apologize a lot," the boy remarked. He stuck the cigarette in his mouth for a second and held in a few coughs. "Would other people who know you describe you as well-mannered?"

"I'd think so. Why?"

"I'm trying to solve a mystery here. It's well-mannered lads like you that get the girls' attention, yeah?"

"Yeah, I suppose...well--"

"Yes, it's just as I thought. You were late today because of something of that nature, weren't you? Did you go chasing after some broad?"

"UHM..."

"But considering you're here, that didn't turn out too good, did it?"

Paul reddened. "I was trying to be polite, sir--"

"I'm not a 'sir', mate."

"Fine. But that's really none of your business. And I'm already going to get an earful from my old man for getting home so late. So I don't need this right now."

"Oh," the boy stuck the cigarette back in his mouth and coughed a bit. He seemed somewhat disappointed. "Well, you better get a move on, then."

"Gladly."

"Have a good evening, you."

Paul hurried back onto his bike pedaled away from the smoking boy.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was him. Paul was certain it was him.

A couple times now, Paul had seen the boy on the bus and now he finally recognized him.

Same tuft of hair in the front, same penchant for smoking, and once he'd overheard him conversing, he knew that was the same voice.

The difference was he wasn't wearing those glasses (though he carried a pair in his shirt pocket) and he was often lugging a guitar around, which intrigued Paul. He'd personally found the boy rude and nosy, but now that he actually got a good look at him...his opinion was changing.  
It'd been a while, so he couldn't remember the exact words he'd exchanged with the boy, but he knew that most of them weren't positive by any means.  
That got him wondering, did the boy even remember their encounter? Did he remember Paul? Would he recognize him? Probably not...

Paul occasionally felt an urge to go up to him and properly introduce himself, but always decided against it. He didn't see a point in doing that. Besides, what if that boy just turned out to be the jerk Paul had thought he was?  
He sure did look cool, though.

But it wouldn't be until July 6th, 1957 that Paul would truly meet this boy and permanently intertwine his fate with his.


End file.
